


Angle of Attack

by Aeriel



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, Sibling Rivalry, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: "You shouldn't have done that," Deirdre remarked later, wiping the blood off my cheek with her handkerchief."Shouldn't have punched Eric, you mean?""No, he deserved it," she said serenely. "But you should have waited so the redheads didn't see you doing it, at least. Now they'll get ideas about how to rile you both up."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Filigranka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filigranka/gifts).



Arguably one of the more memorable family vacations, if one could call it that, during my vast and somewhat eventful youth was the time Dad decided it would be good for our collective character if my dear siblings and I were forced to spend several weeks trapped on a scenic cruise through the glacial waters of some remote Shadow. Naturally we were welcome to return to Amber at any time, but to do so easily would require us to stop fighting long enough to successfully guide the vessel through Shadow together.  
  
Or, more realistically, for one of us to knock the others' lights out and go it alone.  
  
At that particular moment in time that meant Eric, Deirdre, Caine, Fiona, Bleys and of course myself. Benedict should rightfully have been included but he'd managed somehow to get out of it, for which I greatly envied him. Llewella was presumably in existence although she had not yet been recognized (and was probably the happier for it) while Brand was still no more than a violently temperamental glint in Dad's eye. This meant that as much as Eric and I already detested each other, we loathed Clarissa's children and Caine all the more, so for the first few days we had a sort of unspoken truce between us so that we could fully focus on the business of tormenting our other sister and brothers.  
  
But then Eric had to go and accuse Deirdre of cheating at quoits and I had to go and slug him in the jaw and that was the end of that.  
  
"You shouldn't have done that," Deirdre remarked later, wiping the blood off my cheek with her handkerchief.  
  
"Shouldn't have punched him, you mean?"  
  
"No, he deserved it," she said serenely. "But you should have waited so the redheads didn't see you doing it, at least. Now they'll get ideas about how to rile you both up."  
  
She was right, of course, but the fact of the matter was I'd been itching to strike Eric since hours after Dad dumped us on the boat. "They were bound to figure out our alliance was temporary sooner or later," I said instead, by way of defense. "We're not exactly in the habit of playing nice. And, I might add, I saved you the trouble of going after him yourself."  
  
Deirdre smiled, her hand lingering. "Very thoughtful of you, Corwin."  
  
"Practically selfless," I agreed.  
  
We were silent for a moment as she washed out the cloth and resumed scrubbing. I seem to recall thinking rather strongly that this was worth any amount of retribution from Eric, Fiona and Bleys put together, which only goes to show that back then I had surprisingly little imagination while in a sentimental frame of mind.  
  
I felt I should say something more, if for no other reason than to try and convince us both that I hadn't let the scuffle drag on longer than necessary in hopes that Deirdre might tenderly minister to my wounds, so I said, "How are you getting on with the redheads, anyway? I haven't spoiled any plans of yours, I hope."  
  
"Do you really?" Her eyes pierced me to the quick. So much for polite conversation.  
  
"Well, one doesn't like to be a nuisance," I said, a little too quickly. "I'll be just fine and dandy on my own, you know. If there's another more pressing engagement, I freely invite you to throttle me and go about your business, dear sister. In fact, you can tell them and Caine--"  
  
Deirdre silenced me with one hand and a laugh. "As attractive as you can make that sound, dear brother, if I had plans to be spoiled, you can be sure I wouldn't be fussing over you." And then she cupped my cheek, which was both reassuring and about as conducive to rational thought as brain freeze; both effects doubtless intentional.  
  
"Well," I said, suddenly extremely interested in the porthole just over her left shoulder. "Good. So about the redheads…"  
  
"Bleys doesn't bother with me so I don't bother with him. Fiona likes to pretend she's above all our petty squabbles but I think she quite detests you. I'm keeping an eye on her." Deirdre smiled again.  
  
"Is that so?" Of course I'd recognized Fiona's smiles were false, and contemplated trying to throw her into the river once or twice already when she reminded me too much of her mother, but I didn't think I'd done anything lately to earn her specific ire.  
  
Then again, I always did have a talent for that sort of thing.  
  
"You're smiling," Deirdre pointed out.  
  
"Am I?"  
  
She laughed and threw the bloody cloth at me. "Do you enjoy being hated that much?"  
  
"Only by the most particular of people," I said cheerfully, peeling the cloth off my shoulder. "If I dislike someone, I generally assume they have bad taste, in which case I don't see why I should pretend to crave their approval. Fiona's loathing strikes me as a compliment."  
  
"Albeit a useless one," Deirdre retorted. _"I_ would rather be liked by someone I hated. It lowers their defenses."  
  
"And generally their offense as well, I'll give you that."  
  
She lifted her chin, which meant she was beginning to find me annoying. "That isn't the point, though obviously it's not a disagreeable side effect. You can get at and around someone who thinks you're sweet and obliging in all sorts of ways that become impossible once they know you detest them. And strike the first blow."  
  
"Point well taken, my sweet little sister, but--"  
  
"Don't," Deirdre snapped, and there was a flash of real anger there. Which surprised me, because I had been under the impression I was still defending my own right to habitual unpleasantness.  
  
It was the worst thing I could have said, but I really wanted to know. "Don't what?"  
  
"You become so utterly condescending when you don't receive unconditional agreement!" She stood up and I felt a flash of regret. "I respect you, Corwin. The least you could do is make an effort to extend me the same courtesy."  
  
And with that she left.  
  
Feeling somewhat resentful and deeply misunderstood, I threw the cloth at the wall. Was it possible that I had bungled the conversation that spectacularly?  
  
No, I decided, the problem wasn't with what I'd said but with how I'd said it, and what Deirdre had assumed I meant by it.  
  
I shouldn't have called her _little_ sister.  
  
Eric was waiting for me by the stairs.  
  
"Go away. I'm already in a bad mood and you can't possibly improve it." I didn't want to have to push past him, but he was showing signs of being in my way.  
  
"Even if I came to apologize?" Eric said mildly, hand on the rail.  
  
"I'm not the one you insulted, so save it for somebody who'd like to hear it."  
  
"I'm sorry you jumped in my way." He smiled, and I considered hitting him again. "Don't you think Deirdre's getting a bit old for your valiant protection?"  
  
"Age has absolutely nothing to do with it. I don't like bullies, and you lost fair and square. Now are you going to get out of _my_ way or--"  
  
The bastard laughed in my face. "So I'm a bully now, am I, Corwin? And what does that make our dear sister in this equation, hiding behind your righteous fists?"  
  
"A damn sight smarter than you," I said, and shoved him to the side.  
  
Naturally that wasn't the end of it. As I ascended I felt Eric grab hold of my cloak and drag me backwards down the stairs, where to my satisfaction I successfully landed with a hard thump and an elbow to his gut.  
  
"Let's try this again," I said, getting my wind back before him and springing up to reach the stairs. I only managed to lay a hand on the railing before Eric caught my other arm and twisted it behind my back. As I hollered, his other arm got me in a headlock, confirming that this was not turning out to be my day.  
  
"It's time you respected your older brother," Eric growled into my ear while I thrashed to get out of his grip. "Or else I might just rip this arm out of your socket."  
  
I responded with a colorful string of profanity and stomped on the toe of his left boot. He grunted in pain, loosening his grip for mere seconds, but I was quick and ready for that mousehole of opportunity and I managed to duck my head out of his arm's reach, twisting around so my arm was no longer being forced in the wrong direction. I twisted all the way behind him and threw my other arm around his neck.  
  
"That wasn't my best arm anyway," I informed him, increasing the pressure on his throat. The way I figured it, the more air and energy he spent fighting back against me the faster I could get him to pass out and leave me alone. "Still, I'd rather hang on to both for the time being. Easier to get things done that way, you know. Not many one-handed mandolin players in Amber--"  
  
I hadn't bargained on him throwing his full weight backwards, knocking us both onto the floor again. I managed not to hit my head, but Eric had at least ten pounds on me at that point and he'd knocked the air out of my lungs temporarily.  
  
He wrenched my arm off his neck and rolled over to straddle my legs. "Then you can be the first, Corwin. You'd make a magnificent curiosity at my coronation!"  
  
"I'd prefer to play your funeral!" I shot back, surging up and twisting to dislodge him, elbowing him in the face. I landed a nice hit on his jaw and successfully threw him off, but he still had my other arm by the wrist and gripped it with a force that might have crushed an ordinary man's bones as I tried to roll away.

Still, having both legs free opened up some options, and I took advantage of one by swinging my knee up at his groin. It might have connected with the intended area quite solidly if he hadn't made a dive for my gut at the same time, but as it was the attack changed in a split second to a defensive move, keeping him from landing fully on top of me again.

We were thus engaged when Fiona, Bleys and Caine showed up.  
  
"How charming," Fiona said, voice dripping with distaste. "The bastards are trying to murder each other again."  
  
"Technically," I retorted, ramming Eric's nose with the heel of my hand, "one bastard and one legitimate!"  
  
Eric clocked me in the side of the head, probably with his forearm. "A distinction only of particular interest to you, Corwin!"  
  
"It would be to you if it were the other way around!"  
  
Bleys started to laugh. "And I didn't even think to ask for entertainment before dinner!"

"My money's on Eric," Caine said, which annoyed me. Not that he didn't have good reason for his assumption, having not witnessed any of my major victories to date.  
  
Fiona sniffed. "It's a pointless exercise, brute force without any real lethal possibilities. But if you're all going to be otherwise occupied for the time being, I might as well take this opportunity to steer us a little closer to home."

"Suit yourself, Fi--"  
  
_"Eric!"_  
  
I froze at Deirdre's scream, giving Eric the opportunity to land a blow in a particularly unkind place.  
  
She must have pushed past Bleys, Caine and Fiona (if Fiona hadn't already walked away, that is) because the next thing I knew she was peeling Eric off me neck first, hooking her left leg around his and forcing him down onto his knees.  
  
"Better and better!" Bleys exclaimed.  
  
"This has nothing to do with you, Deirdre, so release me and be on your way! I've no wish to hurt you," Eric growled, fighting to get out of her chokehold.  
  
"Unfortunately for you, the feeling isn't mutual. Are you going to apologize to our brother, Eric?"  
  
By this time I was recovered enough to prop myself up on my arms and enjoy the spectacle with Bleys and Caine. Eric was glaring daggers at me, but Deirdre was focused on Eric.  
  
"I apologize," Eric said, and smirked. "To our brother Eric."  
  
Bleys burst out laughing again, but Deirdre was not amused. In a movement too quick for my eyes to follow, she yanked up one of his arms by two of his fingers, making him yelp. "Do you think I'm bluffing, Eric? Try again."  
  
"Do," I said, "because this is shaping up to be much more gratifying than an apology."  
  
Eric responded with a decidedly non-apologetic gesture which only lasted a moment before Deirdre bit his finger, twisting his wrist in a quick sharp motion. I heard a brittle cracking sound and Eric howled with pain.  
  
I stared in awe as Eric's finger slipped out of her mouth, bending at an angle so unnatural it left no doubt as to what she had just done.  
  
"Now," Deirdre said serenely, "are you going to apologize to Corwin, or should I break another finger?"  
  
Eric was breathing so heavily, for a moment I thought he hadn't heard her. Then almost under his breath he grunted, "I sincerely apologize."  
  
"To whom, brother Eric?"  
  
He swore. "Corwin!"  
  
"The same to you," I said cheerily. "Shall we eat?"  
  
Bleys laughed, and grinned at me. "Too bad, it was just getting interesting!"

"It still is," Caine said, which made me rather nervous. "Just wait for it."

"I'll see if I can find Fiona to assure her the carnage is done. Care to join me, brother Caine?"  
  
Deirdre released Eric and I sat up, dusting off my trousers. In a way, I felt a peculiar sort of gratitude towards Eric. I was feeling considerably more optimistic about myself and the world at large than I had before he'd decided to pummel me again, even if that hadn't at all been his intention.  
  
"Enjoy it while you can," Eric said, getting to his feet and still eying me. "Seeing as you've yet to best me with your own skill, I don't imagine that will be very long."  
  
His words stung just as they were meant to, but I was sore all over and one more blow wasn't going to make me drop my grin. "Oh, I intend to! Now that I know what your face looks like in defeat, I'll be sure to crystallize it in my memories forever."  
  
Eric ignored me, glancing at Deirdre so dismissively I could see her hackles raising. "Your holds are promising, sister. I must applaud you for learning from my excellent example."  
  
Deirdre said nothing, and he left.  
  
"I would like to point out that not only do I respect you, I absolutely respect you more than _that,"_ I said, jerking a finger in the direction Eric had strode away.  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "I'm not judging a competition."  
  
I let out a frustrated sign. "I am aware of that, yes. Thank you, by the way. I'm sorry if you had to compromise your strategy with the redheads to intervene. Believe me, my personal choice of brawling locations would not have been here."  
  
To my relief, Deirdre smiled. "I know that. There's no advantage." She offered her hand and I took it, getting to my feet.  
  
"Well," I said, "how do I look? Bruised ham or still roguishly handsome?"  
  
She laughed, which I took as a good sign. "It's a little early to assess the damage, but for now? Dashingly disheveled, dear Corwin."  
  
"And you're still my favorite, dear Deirdre." I pulled her to me and we embraced, she pressing her cheek to mine. And if perhaps she squeezed me a bit too tightly for my injuries, I must admit I mind pain somewhat less when a beautiful woman is involved.  
  
"Promise me you won't goad Eric?" She kissed my brow, which made it rather difficult to be indignant. "He should be satisfied with two scuffles today, I hope."  
  
"I tried to get out of this one but he wasn't having it. Still, I'd be more worried about him going after you next…"  
  
Deirdre shook her head, tresses bouncing. "He won't want to appear vindictive and risk encouraging Bleys and Fiona to side with us against him. There's a reason he looked for you in what he thought was a private spot. Besides, he doesn't think much of me." There was a bitterness to that last remark.  
  
While I thought she probably had Eric's number for most of that, I was somewhat skeptical that he would be completely uninvested in the person who had just snapped his middle finger like a popsicle stick. "He knows it bothers you more to be belittled than trash talked."  
  
"He can know it and still mean it." She shrugged, which was when I realized her problems with Eric ran a lot deeper than I'd thought. I was still short-sighted enough in those days to have largely assumed Eric was Deirdre's enemy because he was mine, and while there was doubtless some element of that in play, the truth was I knew very little of their relationship when I wasn't involved.  
  
But that wasn't entirely true. Eric had made a few remarks about Deirdre before his fists got in on the conversation, and there was a certain consistency between his accusing her of cheating, claiming she was hiding behind me, and whatever the hell he'd meant by that crack about her being "too old" to be defended.  
  
"All right," I said, "I begin to see what you're getting at. So what are we going to do about it?"  
  
Deirdre smiled. "Besides getting you cleaned up and presentable for dinner? What did you have in mind?"

"What don't I have in mind? Deirdre, you have maimed and humiliated my greatest foe before my very eyes, which is just about the nicest present I've ever gotten. The least I can do in return is help rub it in."  
  
She laughed. "Oh, I don't think you'll have to exert much effort to do that, seeing as you've got at least two more functional fingers than Eric at the moment. And he does favor that hand."

All at once I understood how deliberate her choice had been, and just what Caine had meant by his little remark.

Deirdre had targeted Eric's sword hand, and in such a way as to make fencing with it virtually impossible for as long as it took for the bone to heal. Of course, he could still make a clumsier go of it with the other hand, but as far as punishments went this was inventive, a straight shot to his ego.

"You realize, of course, that you're only increasing the temptation to taunt him with my quantitatively superior supply of fingers?" I waggled the offending digits before her face and she laughed again, seizing hold of my hand and squeezing it. I winced reflexively, and her expression softened.

"Unless bruised ham or worse is your desired outcome, you'd better come with me first."

I rather doubted I'd sustained any serious injury-- still, I followed her jauntily.


End file.
